


Just to Know You

by will_o_wisp



Series: The Camboy 'Verse [1]
Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Father-Son Relationship, Incest, M/M, Parent/Child Incest, Pornstars, Slight underage, Voyeurism, camboy, camboy au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-03-25 20:57:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3824857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/will_o_wisp/pseuds/will_o_wisp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Herc and Chuck are thrown together after seeing each other only briefly every year. Herc discovers more than he bargains for, when Tendo sends him a link of a camboy page.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this fic since before christmas trying to get ahead with it, here's hoping this kicks me in the ass to get more done. More updates on the way, tags will evolve as time goes on.

Every time Herc Hansen left Sydney on a tour the damn place seemed to change. Sure most of the roads were okay, but new shopping centres seemed to be everywhere and the drivers seemed to be getting dumber. At least the road to the airport hadn’t shifted much, but Herc still preferred to be driving his Jeep Cherokee in the outback to this.

He had his right hand on the wheel, and he was trying not to look at his passenger. Sitting next to him was his kid, Charlie, who had an expensive pair of headphones on and was scrolling through his phone, slouched down in his seat and basically looking like the embodiment of a storm cloud.

Herc sighed, because life had dealt him a few sort of wild cards and now he had to deal with it. Living with Charlie for the first time since he was one year old, however, made Herc balk. He’d take flying a Bell Kiowa into hostile air space over having to figure out how to deal with a cold, indifferent teenager any day.

The arrangement had come about because Angela, Charlie’s mother, had to move to a country that was too difficult to immigrate Charlie in as well. Her husband was working in Africa, and Charlie hadn’t wanted to go there either, so the only remaining option was home soil. Sydney. Herc’s turf.

It was a nightmare.

Herc worked with the RAAF, and formerly the SOCOM unit, and was usually overseas himself, but a bad accident had left him with a fucked up arm that was about a quarter metal, now, with how many plates and screws and pins were wired into him to fix his elbow, radius, and most of his hand. Safe to say Herc wasn’t going to be flying for a while.

The only sound was the road and their breathing. Herc wondered if he ought to ask something, say something. Simple. _How was the flight? Are you hungry?_ All he knew was _‘it’s good to have you home’_ would go over like a lead balloon. Ever since Chuck was six he’d been pitching fits about staying one on one with Herc, so Herc eventually had to go visit wherever Chuck happened to be at the time.

Herc’s place wasn’t very big. Certainly not what Chuck was used to, in all likelihood. Angela and her husband did work in various embassies around the world, and were usually put up by the government. Chuck’s schools were all fancy private schools.

Herc was just a soldier. He tried not to feel inadequate, as he pulled into the drive and killed the engine. Chuck looked up, his eyes remote, before he opened the door and got out.

The grunted ‘hi’ at the airport was all that had been said so far.

Herc took one bag, Chuck the other. Chuck at least seemed to resent the idea of his dad lifting the heavier of the two, and Herc walked behind him as he watched Chuck struggle with the giant bag.

The house was small, two bedroom and two bathroom, one up and one down, with no basement to speak of. Everything, though, was in hardwood and tasteful colours. Herc didn’t have his father’s handyman skills, but he’d fixed the place up as nice as he could.

“On the left,” said Herc, breaking the silence.

Chuck didn’t reply, just turned and opened the door, dragging the trunk through.

Herc followed. Chuck’s room was average sized, painted grey. The bed was one Chuck might even recognize from when he was younger, a wooden carved thing his grandfather had made him, and the dresser and desk were close to matching.

Chuck looked around, then glanced at his dad. “You got internet here?”

Sighing inwardly, Herc walked past and put the other bag down on the bed. “Yeah. Jack’s in the corner,” he waved his hand.

Chuck glanced at it. “Wifi? High speed?”

“Yeah.” Herc didn’t have anything else. He liked having good internet, though, for his own reasons. “I’ll let you get settled.”

Herc left the room and Chuck didn’t say another word.

Angela had told him her new assignment could be eight months. Herc felt despair starting to set in as he went down to the living room, thinking about all that time with short sentence answers and those dark sullen looks Chuck shot him when he thought Herc couldn’t see.

He figured he ought to be glad, too, that they weren’t in the military. The handsome little shit would be crawling right under Herc’s skin by this point.

++

When Herc went back up to his room later on, to check how he was, it had transformed. The walls were still bare, but Chuck had put his things away. Text books and novels perched on the top of the dresser, a fancy laptop with extra webcam and most of his school supplies were spread on the desk, and Chuck had made up the bed.

Laying with his feet propped up on the edge of the bedframe and head on the pillows, Chuck was reading a book and listening to music. He’d ditched his travelling clothes and was wearing shorts and a Black Sabbath T-shirt, something that actually made Herc smile a bit, relieved his son still liked some of the same bands he did.

“You hungry?” he asked, and it took Chuck a moment to turn off his music and lazily move his eyes over to stare.

The inner military man in Herc almost snapped at him, because if a recruit ever looked at Herc like that he’d make them do twenty on their knuckles.

“Yeah, guess,” said Chuck, sounding bored.

“What do you like to eat? I ain’t much of a cook, but there’s lots of good take out ‘round here.”

Chuck shrugged. “Dunno.”

The one to two word answers were starting to grate on him. “Pizza, then?”

“Sure.”

Grumbling in the back of his throat, Herc tapped the door. “Look, I know you aren’t happy with coming here to live with me. But we can try to make it work out.”

Chuck frowned, tilting his head to look at Herc. He looked so much like Angela in that moment it almost made Herc’s heart ache, because so much time had passed between him and Chuck. He hadn’t seen a proper picture of the kid for over a year before picking him up in the airport, and Chuck had turned from a gangling teenager with too-big hands and feet to the near-man laying on the bed. But the glare in his eyes, he recognized that one. That was all Herc.

“Let me guess, find something that works for the both of us?”

Herc rolled his eyes. “No. I’m not upset about you comin’ here. Just you are. I figure we can try to not either be passive aggressive shit heads or outright hostile, is all.”

Chuck rolled his eyes, sitting up to stare at Herc now. “Yeah, I’m sure this isn’t putting you out at all, Herc.”

He flinched a bit, stepping back. “One, I’m your father so you’re gonna fucking respect that, two-”

“You ain’t my dad, you’re a sperm donor, and you haven’t tried to be my dad since I was six,” snapped Chuck. “I’m not fucking hungry.”

Well, that hurt. Herc didn’t let it show on his face, as he stepped back, hand squeezing the doorknob as he looked into eyes identical to his own. “Fine, you want to sulk in your room like a child instead of talking, so be it,” he said, and shut the door, pretending he didn’t hear Chuck’s snarl of frustration only half muffled by a pillow.

He was halfway down the stairs before his stomach started to hurt and Herc paused, wondering if he was even hungry at all himself.

++

The rest of the evening passed as anyone might expect. Chuck came down after a few hours, probably with his stomach growling, and Herc ignored him while the kid raided the pizza box in the kitchen.

Herc knew he was a shitty dad. He knew it ever since Chuck’s second birthday, when he’d been abroad and instead of going home to take leave he knew he was owed, he’d sent a birthday gift and a card he’d had to scratch out the Serbian and replace it with English. An act that had gotten him a particularly cool message from his ex-wife.

He just wished he knew how to fix it, and while ignoring didn’t work it did at least make things moderately easier on him.

Back up in his room Herc switched on his laptop. Since he was hardly ever home he never bothered with cable, or hooking up his satellite dish. He had Internet for if he wanted to watch a TV show or browse the web. Sure, Herc wasn’t a whiz with computers, but he wasn’t awful either.

He signed onto Skype, getting a few pings from friends. A reflexive glance at his contacts told him Chuck wasn’t online, but it had been awhile since Herc had believed that the account Chuck and Angela used for the occasional message was his main account.

 **Tendo:** _Hey big guy_

Herc smiled a bit, pushing his glasses up on his face. Tendo was a guy who worked with a few American SOCOM units and had been Herc’s dispatcher on more than one occasion, when he’d had to work with the yanks on missions. They’d struck up a pretty close friendship over a game of pool and a bottle of tequila.

 **Herc Hansen:** _Christ, Tendo, what the fuck are you doing up?_

 **Tendo:** _Same thing you’re about to be doing_

Well, that was delicate, but Herc was interested in the link Tendo sent him anyway. After they’d gotten to talking a lot Tendo’s more perverted side ended up coming out, and he usually sent Herc a variety of different links to porn Tendo was finding interesting at the time. At first Herc had told him to fuck off, but Tendo had a way of sniffing out kinks like a dog to a bone, and now he was Herc’s main hook up.

And Herc was in a rotten mood anyway, he figured a good wank might settle him down.

Being single for as long as Herc had been, he’d sort of gotten a taste for porn. Namely gay porn. Sure Herc loved women, and he dated them more often than he dated men in the last ten or so years, but there was something about the really good queer porn that got Herc bothered.

 **Tendo:** _You’re lonely, and this boy is right up your alley_

Tendo was an asshole, too. Herc wished he hadn’t somehow managed to psychically pick apart the things that really got to Herc.

While he waited for the page to load he did a quick stock of his bed. Box of tissues close at hand, a tube of slick. He felt sort of perverted, doing this while his kid was in the next room, but Chuck was a teenager and if he was anything like Herc had been he’d probably tossed off about five times already.

The thought should not have been even mildly intriguing, so Herc growled at the buffer.

 **Herc Hansen:** _Slow fucking website_

 **Tendo:** _It does a lot of live shows. The kid’s doing a vlog tonight, so it’s probably why. But don’t waste your time clicking the vlog, just go find a vid_

Herc rolled his eyes. _Kid?_

**Tendo:** _He says he’s 18, and the site let him sign up. But yeah, basically a kid_

Herc felt like a creep, now, but he’d watched his fair share of barely legals get their pretty little asses fucked so it didn’t stop him from going back to the page when he figured it was safe.

Sure enough, there was a new video popped up with only one view, but that wasn’t really what Herc was staring at.

The icon.

Was this a fucking joke?

He had half a reply of outrage written to Tendo before it occurred to him that Tendo knew shit about his family. That there was no way Tendo could know. So he deleted the reply, closed the Skype window, and just stared at the username and the icon.

Like most perverts, Herc of course had heard of the site Tendo linked him. It was an ‘indie’ archive of sexy camboys and girls who made a lot of money taking requests. Boasted about a lot of barely legals and plenty of dogs like Herc sniffed about, though Herc had never actually taken out a subscription. Usually he stuck to the basics, like YouPorn or PornHub.

“Fuck,” he said out loud, quiet enough that Chuck hopefully wouldn’t hear him. He strained his ears a moment, got nothing through the walls, so he swallowed hard.

Maybe, just maybe, Chuck was asleep.

But he doubted that, considering the freshly uploaded video.

“Charlie Eureka,” he muttered to himself, a blush rising to his cheeks. And according to the page stats, there were thirty-three videos. Half vlogs, half actual porn. “Jesus Christ.”

It was Chuck, on the icon. His hair was messy and he was smiling at the camera, a beaded chain around his neck that made Herc reach for his dog tags. He wondered who's _those_ were, with a stab of jealousy. He doubted his own, because even though he’d given some to Chuck a long time ago there was no love lost between them.

What army cunt was sticking it to his son?

 **Tendo:** _So are you looking yet or what?_

Herc swallowed hard, pushing his glasses up again in a nervous gesture, as he opened Skype again. Did he get mad at Tendo, blow the fact that his fucking son was obviously a camboy? A popular camboy, considering he had eight thousand viewers?

 **Herc Hansen:** _Twinks aren’t normally your thing, Choi. Thought you were in more of a Brazilian mood lately_

 **Tendo:** _Just because I eat the same thing for breakfast every day doesn’t mean I don’t like variety for lunch_

 _Don’t call my boy lunch you seppo prick,_ thought Herc savagely. If Tendo were there, there probably wouldn’t be much stopping Herc from killing him.

He swallowed, though, breathing carefully. Tendo sent a few replies, with more than a few suggestive emoticons, believing Herc was fucking his hand, before Skype went quiet.

Herc kept staring at the page. A little note that mentioned newcomers got one free video before they had to subscribe. And Herc was sweating, wishing the thumbnails weren’t some stupid photoshopped animation and were the actual video, so he knew what might be fucking going on. If Chuck got fucked by someone in most of them. If he were being taken advantage of.

And what were all eight thousand of those people doing, perving on his kid? What were they saying?

The worst bit was realizing that when this had started Chuck hadn’t even been eighteen yet, and he _still_ wasn’t. His birthday was in a month.

 _It’s for Chuck’s own safety,_ he tried to reason, as he clicked on an icon. Not a vlog, but the first porn video in the archive. He had to know. Had to make sure his boy was okay, even if Chuck didn’t think Herc was his dad.

And when Chuck appeared, smiling and looking relaxed for the camera, Herc felt a deep bolt of self loathing for the way his dick twitched to see the tags hanging over Chuck’s pale freckled chest and how the camera managed to catch the pinkness of his nipples.

 _I’m fucked,_ he thought.

 _“Hey guys,”_ said Chuck, his voice betraying that he was a little nervous, unconfident. He was sitting in a swivel chair, and Herc didn’t recognize the bedroom behind him, but Herc figured that was when Chuck was living in Vienna, when his mother was doing some work during a political crisis and Vienna was the neutral meeting option. The bedroom didn’t look personal, but it did look high class, and you could see the bed just behind him.

 _“I’m sure if you’re here, you’re checking out whether I’m worth a subscription, and aren’t wasting time on my intro vlog. My name’s Charlie Eureka, as you can no doubt tell I’m an aussie-”_ the admission caused a little stab behind Herc’s heart, because he’d had fights with Chuck over it before, considering Angie was from London, and Chuck insisted he was British, _“and I’ve just turned eighteen.”_

“Liar,” muttered Herc.

 _“I’m mostly doing this to save up money for college. My folks travel a lot, and I want to get in somewhere good, and support myself. Won’t say where, but it’s down under.”_ Chuck grinned at that, and Herc bit his lip, because his son had never even hinted that he might one day want to stay in Australia for school. He’d always expected some place like Oxford.

 _“Time for the main event, though. Like I said in my last video, for a small fee you can send me a request to my inbox, and each week I’ll pick one. As for this week,”_ Chuck smiled, picking up a printed piece of paper, probably for effect, _“I’ve got a message from someone named ShyGuy420 and he writes: I noticed you’re wearing tags. They belong to a boyfriend? Should we be jealous?” Chuck rolled his eyes, glancing up at that. “I can’t wait to see your first video, Charlie. It’d be great to see you make yourself feel good. Do whatever you need to make yourself come, just so long as you show off.”_

Chuck put the paper down, smiling. _“Normally I only do requests, and questions like that are saved for my vlog, but to answer it, no, no boyfriend. These,”_ Chuck shook the tags, holding them up so they caught the light, _“are a secret. As for the request, I think I can think of something to ‘show off.”_

Herc wondered who the soldier was that gave Chuck his tags. What country it had been, how old Chuck had been, how much they had done together?

Chuck stood up, and Herc knew now was the time to close the window. Now was the time to turn off the computer, and try to figure out how to approach Chuck about this. How wrong it was for him to lie about his age and do this for money on the internet.

He really should close the window.

Chuck’s fingers hooked through the hem of silk boxers, giving the camera a view of his abs, the V of his hips. He worked out, he knew Angie was a health nut, and that Chuck followed suit.  The camera was too good, really, because Herc’s eyes were glued on the freckles on his pale stomach and even the small birthmark, no more than about five centimeters long, triangle shaped, pointing down, and the slight dusting of hair over his navel.

“Fuck,” he said, because Chuck was pushing down, and Herc could tell Chuck was getting thick in his boxers by how it was pressing outwards. Herc should close the video - his mouse was over the close - but he didn’t move, didn’t click.

Chuck wiggled, his hips canting forward as the boxers slid off. Herc’s cock throbbed underneath of the laptop, to see the bright ginger of his pubic hair, the way his boy’s half-hard dick bounced a little when the waist of his boxers disappeared, slipping down his thighs.

I’m going to hell, thought Herc, because his cheeks were going red, and Chuck was stepping back to the bed and giving a smile Herc had never seen on his face before to the camera, grinning wickedly like he knew some kind of secret.

 _“I wonder if this means I can touch my cock?”_ asked Chuck, and Herc shuddered, one hand desperately turning the volume down so he could just hear it. _“Don’t worry. Only if I really need to…  I like being given permission.”_

“Like fuck,” said Herc, and Chuck smiled like he heard it, before he pushed the chair away and turned, leaning over the bed, arching his back enough so he could look behind and keep smiling at the camera.

 _“So, is this a cute little hole?”_ teased Chuck, reaching back with one hand to spread his cheeks, and Herc nearly closed the laptop completely. The guilt and shame was eating at him, never mind how he was rock solid under the covers. He was staring at his boy’s entrance, soft and pink, and Chuck was still grinning at the camera, looking like a fucking porn star.

He reached up, letting the muscles in his right leg go slack a moment, and Herc’s eyes were glued on every motion as Chuck sucked his fingers into his mouth, full lips working so well around them Herc had a moment wondering what they’d look like around his own cock.

Herc let go of the mouse, pushing the laptop onto the clear spot on the bed next to him. He reached up, squeezing at his own cock, biting his lip. He was hard for his son, imagining leaning over Chuck and putting his tongue on his entrance and really making Chuck moan.

Christ.

Mesmerised, Herc watched as Chuck explained he’d just need a moment to prep himself. Chuck circled with his fingers a moment before he sank his index finger inside of himself to the knuckle. Herc didn’t stroke himself, hardly breathed, as he watched Chuck slowly get more and more into it with nothing more than spit-slick fingers.

It was when Chuck’s breath started to stutter out, barely audible over the speakers, that Herc started to squeeze himself again, stroking up and down his erection, still underneath of the blanket.

Herc had watched plenty of camboys, experienced and not, and there was something that Chuck had - a kind of natural confidence - that you didn’t usually see. Herc found himself pushing the blanket down and biting his lip, as Chuck finally used some actual lube and moved to push two fingers inside of himself.

Herc hardly heard the little words Chuck sometimes said, more focused on his tiny little moans and the way his hips pushed in thrusts, grinding his cock against the bed. Herc’s son was hot, in control even when he was leaned over like this, and Herc was helpless to everything, his every move.

Herc nearly came when Chuck moaned, loud this time. It wasn’t until his second viewing, later on, that Herc realized his kid was pressing his fingers against his prostate, but for now Herc just jerked himself quicker, biting at his own forearm to keep from making noise as he watched Chuck’s back and thighs quiver, heard his kid swear and beg without direction.

Chuck pulled out his fingers, turning to lay on his back. Herc curled his hand over the head of his cock to see his son’s erection laying back along his abs. It was flushed, the head getting darker, precum leaking on his abs. Chuck didn’t touch it, but he did reach to shift his balls out of the way as he pushed in with three fingers, a pinched expression between pain and utter pleasure on his face, before Chuck’s body stiffened.

The second Herc saw Chuck’s cock start to throb, sending that first spurt of white onto his boy’s abs, he shuddered and his head fell back. Herc twitched with it, listening to Chuck coming down off of his own orgasm with soft moans. Herc stroked himself a few more times, feeling his cock pulse in response, smearing his own come over his palm before Herc’s hand fell away to the bed.

“Shit,” he said, eyes slowly shutting, as he listened to Chuck first just breathe, then laugh breathlessly at a job well done.

When Chuck properly spoke again Herc’s eyes opened and he angled his head some.

 _“Shit, wow, that was great,”_ laughed Chuck, his voice breathy. _“Did I show off enough? I hope you guys enjoyed my first video! Remember, every Wednesday I’ll be uploading a new one, and the vlog’s are on Saturdays, and you can ask questions on those days. Tune in soon, and send me some requests. I’d love to see what you all can come up with.”_

The video switched off, ending with Chuck giving a flirty smile and a little lip bite, and Herc looked down at his come covered hand.

_Shit._

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I'm starting to work on it again at least...

Herc was exhausted the next morning. He’d fallen asleep around three AM, spending half the time unable to sleep from guilt and the rest of it rewatching the video and a few vlogs. Just waking up in the morning and seeing his gold credit card there on the bedside table made him guilty all over again.

“Shit,” he said, glancing over to where his laptop was laying closed on the bed beside him. He smelled like come, and just thinking about that reminded him that he’d managed to blow three times over his son.

Herc got up, feeling stiff, as he went to the bathroom. He felt sort of like he’d just run a marathon, and wondered if that just meant he was getting old, as he pushed open the adjoining door and turned on the shower.

He glanced at the hall, closing the door as an afterthought. He didn’t live alone anymore, and he didn’t need Chuck walking in. He’d have to get used to closing his own door to the bathroom.  

The shower was good, and his left arm was aching. At least he had physio later, and while that was going to turn his arm into a screaming mess it would help him take his mind off of Chuck.

Which, of course, got bad all over again when he heard Chuck stirring in the next room, his alarm going off. He had to see Chuck. Look him in the eyes. And remember how Chuck looked when he’d come all over himself and was smiling, fucked out.

Herc cursed, feeling his cock throb, and he reached out and turned the water from hot to as cold as he could get it.

Moving quick as he could, after unlocking the hall door, he got dressed and headed downstairs. Chuck didn’t say anything as he started the shower himself, and Herc forced himself to think about breakfast instead of Chuck standing naked in the shower.

 _Shit_ , he thought, his stomach unpleasantly hot as he got a carton of eggs out, _shit, shit._

At least, because of his special ops and military training, Herc managed to school himself by the time Chuck came down. Herc was frying eggs, keeping an eye on the toaster. He glanced reflexively over at Chuck and he felt his breath catch a moment before he looked away.

 _Not legal_ , Herc reminded himself, feeling sort of sick as he flipped the eggs. As if him being underaged was the worst of Herc’s problems.

Chuck was wearing a uniform, dark pants, white button down and a tie. His hair was done up sort of artful, like bedhead with direction.

He also looked far too good, and Herc was happy he at least had the toast popping to distract him.

A moment later, after buttering the toast and trying not to stare or be obvious, he turned and brought the plates to the table, setting Chuck’s down in front of him before picking at his own.

“S’this?” asked Chuck, leaning over a bit, staring.

“Scrambled eggs. Toast. You’re not blind, kid.”

Herc glanced up to meet Chuck’s eyes, and Chuck had an eyebrow raised, like Herc had just said something in code.

“You wear glasses.” The look on his face was puzzling. Maybe judging. Herc figured that was probably the closest feeling Chuck could muster for him.

“S’amazing, what happens when you get over thirty,” Herc muttered, looking back down and wishing his mom’s side wasn’t Irish. The full body blush when he felt guilty he could certainly do without, and he tried to master himself to keep it off. Never mind he’d needed them since he was a boy. “Eat, or you’re gonna be late for your first day.”

“Tell you one thing,” said Chuck, picking up his fork, “I’m mighty fucking glad you aren’t getting me to put vegemite on anything.”

Herc grinned, pushing a fork through his own eggs. He’d added a lot of cheese and crushed chillies, and had no idea if Chuck would even be remotely into that, but he hadn’t bothered asking either.

“You get sick of it in the RAAF,” he said, wondering if he ought to tell Chuck to tone down the swearing. “Your mother mind you dropping f-bombs?”

“She’s not here, is she?”

“Guess not.”

They ate in silence, Herc dropping the subject. Chuck didn’t complain about the eggs and cleaned his plate, even ate the marmalade. The only issue Herc had was how much sugar he put in his tea, but he was a sprog.

This was easy enough, at least. Eating together, not talking. Herc pretending to read his tablet and doing his best not to look up at Chuck and think, _I saw you fuck yourself. I saw you come on your stomach, and I signed up for more._

Well, one way to contribute to his fucking college fund.

++

Herc wanted his day to be something approaching productive, after he saw Chuck off to school. It wasn’t so much ‘showing him off’ as it was waving good-bye from the sink before Chuck went off to find the closest bus stop. He’d have to help him find a car, maybe, but he had no idea if Chuck had ever bothered to learn how to drive.

Dishes soaking in the sink, Herc reminded himself he had plenty of chores to do. Laundry, dishes, could sweep out the kitchen, do yard work. Things that could keep him busy straight to his physiotherapy appointment.

Instead he found himself climbing the stairs, picking up his laptop, and going back down. Like maybe it would feel less awful if he did it when he was downstairs.

Herc dithered a few minutes, getting a second cup of coffee, checking the sink. It didn’t take long for the temptation to become too much and he sat down, flipping the computer open. He hadn’t even turned it off before he’d fallen asleep, so the computer started at once.

Swallowing, with a glance at the door, he opened browser. The website hadn’t even been closed, and Chuck’s face was still smiling at him. Debauched, flirty. Hints of ginger around his jawline as hair started to grow in.

He stared at a video he hadn’t watched yet, one of the porn entries, and instead of clicking on it he instead clicked on the first vlog video. He’d already watched it three times, but he leaned back, frowning at it as it started to play.

 _“Hey there,”_ said Chuck, looking more like the boy Herc would have expected him to be in his pajamas than in those pretentious clothes he came in. It was a plain athletic’s shirt, red plaid pants. He was scruffy, but he looked clean, like he’d planned to look like this, and Herc wondered about the tags again. _“My name’s Charlie Eureka. I’m from the land down under, and I move around a lot. I’ve started this account for a lot of reasons. I’m a bit of a porn addict myself, but what boy my age isn’t? I want to pay my way through school, do the responsible thing. So I’ll be breaking up my weeks into two sessions, a vlog for anyone who wants to know things about me that aren’t too personal on Saturdays, and of course, the main event every Wednesday. And remember, for a small fee you can send in a request for me to do on Wednesdays, and if I like it, it will almost be like your own personal show.”_

Herc cussed a bit, when his dick throbbed just with the idea of that, and he forced his thoughts away from anything he might get Chuck to do on camera. He was sure, with 8,961 subscribers, he probably wouldn’t even get picked. At least Herc’s screen name was discreet enough. Striker1110 was probably pretty anonymous.

_“So, about me then. Well, I’ve just turned eighteen. I love football - that’s soccer, for you American chaps - and I quite like hockey too. I’m good at school, one of those high percentile students with a bit of a secret, I guess. And I love to listen to music, can even sing a bit. Right now I would definitely recommend listening to this new band I got introduced to called Seeming, they released a new album recently and they’re sort of gothy and industrial. And another band I got recommended is called Clutch, they’re pretty cool. Sort of country with metal. I pretty much listen to everything except for rap, mostly because I can’t quite keep up, and I know the music isn’t usually made for people like me.”_

Chuck smiled then, like he was embarrassed about talking about himself. _“I can’t really think of much else to talk about. I’ll do my best to upload everything on time, but I do move about a bit. Funny sort of family situation, really. So if there’ll be a wait, I’ll update it in my journal and for sure have the video up no later than the next day. So… I can’t wait to hear from you.”_ Another smile, so sincere it made Herc’s heart ache, and he wondered if Chuck was lonely. _“See you Wednesday.”_

The video cut out and Herc, determined to be decent, started going through the vlogs. He’d gone through a few last night, but he hardly remembered them, and there were seventeen of them. Seventeen blogs of information he probably never knew about Chuck.

The first few videos were very quiet. Only one or two questions were asked, so Chuck talked about books and music. The questions were rather personal sometimes, and some of them made Herc groan and clench his jaw.

 _“What’s my biggest kink?”_ Chuck asked in vlog ten, leaning back and smiling. _“Ah, wow. So many turn ons. I guess I have… a bit of a daddy kink. I like older men. Rugged guys too, with stubble and gorgeous abs. Not to say I don’t like a guy who can cuddle, y’know.”_ He winked, and Herc felt himself go thick in his jeans, thinking about Chuck’s ‘daddy kink,’ trying not to let it reflect negatively on his own parenting.

Other things were… interesting. Ideas of good dates, things he liked to do in his spare time. Opinions on music, video games, and books. Inquiries on how he was doing in school. And he always looked relaxed, never wearing fancy clothes. Just an average boy.

The one before he came to live with Herc was interesting, to say the least.

_“I’m doing a big move. I’ll try to upload the next videos, depending on the Internet I have. I’m going to go live with someone I haven’t seen… in a long time. I don’t know how it’s going to go. I’m nervous. I’m pretty sure we won’t get along. But he’s not a horrible bloke or anything. We’ll see, I guess.”_

Herc stared at the finished video for a few minutes after that. “Well, glad I’m not horrible,” muttered Herc.

The following video was answering questions, no mention of Herc or living in Australia. It was almost disappointing, but they had had a bit of a fight. Made sense. At least Chuck wasn’t complaining about him on the internet.

And, of course, Chuck admitting one of his biggest fantasies was ‘incesty.’

_“Sometimes I just want a daddy to take care of his little boy, you know?”_

Watching the vlog’s was supposed to be an exercise in resisting jerking off, but just hearing that made Herc abandon any noble intentions, open the fingering video, and unbutton his pants, as fantasies about Chuck moaning ‘daddy’ in his ear filled his head.

When he was done and washing his hand in the kitchen sink, Herc tried not to dwell on everything that was wrong with him.

The worst part was he was learning more about Chuck through a porn video blog than actually speaking, than anything he’d known from spending time with him.

And he was fucking subscribed. Christ.

But at least he did know a few things now. He knew what sort of books Chuck read, even if he didn’t share in his tastes. He knew his son was thinking of being an aeronautical engineer one day. That he liked the beach, and he had a very wide taste in music.

Things he could use, maybe. To fix the fuck up that was their relationship.

++

Herc was doing his best. Maybe not his absolute best, because that would mean closing his account and probably talking to Chuck about what he’d found. But he was trying.

Things were getting less awkward, over time. After about two weeks, Herc could look Chuck in the eye without wanting the floor to eat him. And thanks to the vlog’s, he’d even found ways to communicate with him that wasn’t angry screaming.

Since Herc was off on what miserly bit of medical he got, he tried to take care of the house. He did most of the chores that didn’t require too much use of his left arm, and thanks to Chuck causing a fuss he was even learning to keep proper food in the house. They had a sort of truce of silence, even if the odd fight erupted whenever Herc said something ‘fatherly.’

But they’d lasted two weeks, it was a weekend again, and Herc knew that right after Chuck posted his vlog he’d know some other detail to help the transition.

Herc’s mother always had a habit of calling after dinner, but since fucking up his arm she’d started calling before noon. Herc knew her habits like the back of his hand. She was one of the old girls who still did her hair in hot rollers and shuffled about the house getting caught up on her magazines and watching her TV. Still, Herc’d never piss her off. She was an old military gal and he’d seen his ma beat up a lot of people in his day over tiny infractions. A white religious suburban mother with rifle training.

Herc had decided to go out to the garage where their conversation couldn’t be heard. Not that he’d say something that was somehow incriminating to his mother, just that he didn’t feel like having Chuck overhear, especially if she decided to rake Herc over the coals for something. It was Saturday, so Herc figured Chuck was playing a few rounds on the X-Box.

“I’ve told you a thousand times I’m not interested,” said Herc, putting a cap on a carton of oil. His arm was on fire from the physical labour, but it wasn’t going to stop him from giving his car, a redone BMW 507 he named Ginger, a much needed oil change.

“Yeah, you have,” she said, resignation in his voice, sound a bit tinny from the speaker phone. “You really ought to find yourself a nice woman, though.”

“Ma,” he complained, wiping engine oil off his wrist with a rag.  Didn’t do too bad, for a guy with a fucked up left arm. “I’ll make up my mind, when I want to date again.”

“You are aware it’s been most of your adult life, right?” she said, as if he hadn’t said anything at all. “I mean, I know Scott hasn’t married at all, but he still _dates.”_

 _And is a pig to boot,_ thought Herc, tossing the rag aside before he started to clean up the mess. “I date.”

“When?”

“Abroad.” He didn’t talk about his work. Special Forces usually made people uncomfortable, and the last person he’d had a relationship with lived in Canada. “When I settle down I’ll figure it out, alright?”

There was a pause. Herc could hear her annoyance. He could picture her clearly, too, with a Toohey’s poured into a glass and mixed with lemonade, Oprah or something on the telly. At eleven am it was too early for the rollers, but he could picture it.

There was a sizable pause, which Herc didn’t mind. Let him focus on other things, like cleaning up his tools.

“You’re not a Pouf, are you?”

“MA!” Herc dropped the crescent wrench he was cleaning with a clatter.

“Not that there’s anything wrong-“

“I know there ain’t.” He was not having this conversation. “Look, can we save the whole ‘Herc, why don’t you date’ for Christmas like usual? And maybe not ask me if I’m gay?”

Tess sighed, exasperated, and Herc grunted, putting the last of his tools away. Sure, Herc was maybe a little more liberal than the next meathead soldier, but he knew his dad would shoot him after he’d tied him up and let a horse drag him about a bit.

“How’s Charlie?”

 _Charlie Eureka._ Herc swallowed. “Chuck is fine, he’s in the house right now. Homework, I think.”

“Chuck? Since when does my grandbaby call himself _Chuck._ What dumb European notion put that in his head?”

“It’s his name, ma. If he likes it he can have it.” It wasn’t like Herc was going to argue over it. Of all the things to argue with Chuck about, his name wasn’t it.

“That picture Angie sent - he’s such a big handsome boy now,” she said. “You’ll have to beat girls away from the house with sticks.”

“I doubt it,” said Herc uncomfortably. “He’s too busy doing homework and all that.”

“Oh I doubt it, but you’re his father. I guess it’s best for you to have wool over your eyes. He’s got wild one written all over him.”

“Mm.” _If only you knew the half of it, ma,_ he thought. “So far, no girlfriends have come home.”

There was a pause, and he could feel the question burning behind his mother’s lips even if she was all the damn way in Melbourne.

“Look, he’s not gay either. He’s just settling in, alright?”

“Okay, Herc. Just give the boy his space.”

_He’s got all the fucking space in the world._

There was the sound of the back door slamming and Herc picked up the phone, thumbing the button for speaker to turn off. “Look, gotta go. I’ll talk to you later alright? Alright. Love.”

He hung up.

Herc left the garage in time to see Chuck on the back step. He was wearing a T-shirt, something loose with a band name that Herc didn’t know. Whoever they were, he hoped they were better than Seeming. He’d been listening to a few of Chuck’s recommendations, and half of them made his head numb.

Herc turned, locking the garage door. It was where he kept his bike Martha, and Ginger. He wasn’t sure he was ready for Chuck to get all over his vehicles just yet, but the kid didn’t look curious as Herc crossed the yard.

“Making secret calls, are we?” asked Chuck.

Seeing him again, alone in the yard, was just as hard as it was that morning. Especially considering some of the videos he’d seen Chuck in. Herc was never going to look at a cucumber the same way again.

“Your grandma, Tess,” said Herc, glancing as Chuck turned and walked back up the stairs to make room for Herc. Now really, who decided to make skinny jeans legal? “Not that it matters, if I do want to talk to someone in private.”

Chuck huffed, following along. He looked good, his hair messy with humidity.

The kitchen was cool at least, and Herc helped himself to a beer. Chuck looked at it enviously, and as an after thought Herc passed him another can, smiling a little as Chuck opened it. His boy had been raised in Europe, drinking wine and beer was probably no big deal for him.

“So I wanted to ask,” said Chuck, after a few sips, “what’s all the crap in the hall?”

Herc glanced over. He’d gathered it all up that morning, maybe sort of slyly.

“S’it look like?”

“Beach stuff.” The tone was almost accusatory.

“Figured you hadn’t been since you were back, s’all,” said Herc with a shrug. “It’s about thirty degrees outside and the humidity is fucking stupid. Why not go for a dip?”

He knew Chuck was watching him, as he finished his beer, waiting for the verdict to come down.

It was an innocent enough suggestion, on Herc’s part,  if someone didn’t mind the fact that last week on a certain Saturday vlog, someone had asked what Chuck missed a lot, and the kid had admitted to wanting to go to the beach.

Striker1110, who absolutely did not send the question, also hadn’t followed up by suggesting Chuck go and have some fun and tell them about it.

Herc was shameless.

“Well… yeah I guess. Nothing else to do today.”

“Figured we’d go to Bondi,” said Herc. “And you haven’t been yet, right?”

“Not since I was twelve.”

“That settles that, then.”

Chuck made a long suffering sigh, but Herc was willing to bet he was at least remotely pleased with the turn of events. All his friends were busy, so it was hanging out with his old man or being alone most of the day.

Herc loaded the Cherokee after changing, and Chuck got into the vehicle. He seemed in a sort of passive mood, at least, when Herc got in and started the jeep. Music at once started out of the speakers, a CD Herc had recently bought and had been listening to.

Chuck stared a moment, as Herc started humming along with the song, backing out of the drive. “You like Clutch?”

It was one of the few bands Chuck had spoken about in his vlogs that Herc had liked. Shamelessly trying to win affection points in his son’s eyes, he’d bought it, and he wondered if it was working now.

“Yeah, sure,” said Herc, as if he’d been listening to them for years and not just since his last trip to the CD store. “Why?”

His son shrugged, looking out the window, and Herc tried not to smile.

Bondi Beach was busy as usual, but thanks to summer still a short ways off it was mostly only locals. The horizon was bright blue and it made Herc smile as they stepped off the boardwalk. He loved the look of the ocean, the sound. Sure they had one of the worst parking spots on the claim, but Herc still felt good to be stepping in the sand and making his way behind Chuck.

Chuck chose the spot close to the wave wet sand, dogs and kids running by and screaming. As Herc set up an umbrella he noticed Chuck leaning down to pet a retriever puppy who was wet from the ocean and covered with sand.

“Remember when you were a sprog,” said Herc, tossing the bag underneath the shade of the umbrella, “and I took you here. Got you ice cream, but you were so busy collecting shells you let it melt all over you. Had to buy you a new cone, you fussed so much.”

Chuck groaned, looking back at Herc. “Do you really have to be such an annoying dad?”

“Could be worse,” offered Herc, who wasn’t sure if he should be offended by the statement or pleased that Chuck had said the word ‘dad.’

“Not really. Not unless you start saying dumb dad jokes. You’re wearing a Hawaiian shirt and a fucking booney.”

“I’m ginger, like you, and unless I want another twelve million fucking freckles, you mind the fact I’d rather cover up,” said Herc, deciding that was the end of the subject. He didn’t know what Chuck had against Hawaiian shirts, either. “I’ll also have you know, only real men wear floral prints.”

Waving off the golden retriever, Chuck stood and unzipped his thin hoodie. Herc thanked god that his sunglasses were dark enough not to show how hard he was staring at Chuck’s chest. Up close. Defined, smooth.

_Shit._

Looking away before his body could betray him and utterly humiliate him, Herc shrugged off his shirt too, and the booney. He was a little upset, maybe, that Chuck wasn’t wearing the tags so Herc could get a sly peek at what country and what name they belonged to.

“I thought you didn’t want to turn into a lobster,” said Chuck.

Herc wiggled a spray can of sunscreen, before he started to do himself, ensuring he was well covered up. “Do my back.”

“Ugh.”

“C’mon kiddo.”

“You’re fuckin’ embarrassing.” Chuck took the can, though, and gave him a quick spray before doing himself. “Christ, SPF 45? What are you, a vampire?”

“You see me looking broody and melodramatic?” asked Herc, taking the can. “Don’t answer that.”

Maybe getting that close to Chuck’s back was a mistake. He could see the freckles on his back, a small mole at the nape of his neck, how toned his muscles were. Herc had seen him more intimately, sure, but not so close he could smell his skin.

“Done,” he grunted, tossing the can in the bag, then glanced at the water. Bondi Beach was known for surfers, beach volleyball, and rough currents. But they were on the north end of the beach, and the green flag was up.

Well.

“Race you, kid,” he said, and Chuck’s head snapped up like he was a dog with a scent.

“Like I’m losing to an old man!”

But Herc had started before Chuck, and despite his arm aching as he pumped them while he ran he made it down to the water first, before Chuck leapt and overtook him, sailing several meters and into the water with a whoop.

“Christ, kid!” he said, and Chuck was laughing as he tripped into the water with a splash.

Chuck got up, shaking like a dog, and Herc laughed, getting a handful of water and whipping it at him. He knew that in a few hours Chuck would probably be bitter and angry, but for a few moments as Chuck crashed into him, sending him under the surf, that things were alright. It was sort of like Chuck was a sprog again, before the two of them were really bitter, before Chuck was old enough to know how distant Herc had been.

The water churned, slamming them into the sand. Herc knew his arm was going to be screaming in the morning, but he got up and tackled Chuck back, pleased that at least he was bigger.

“Get off me, ya drongo,” snapped Chuck. They rolled in the water and Chuck shoved Herc off with a big splash of water.

“Oh, kiddo,” said Herc, when he got a mouthful of salt water and sand, “you made a mistake.”

“Don’t think so,” said Chuck, but he was backing up. Deeper. Not wise.

Herc growled and lunged, lifting Chuck by his arm and leg. Chuck squirmed in protest, and when he twisted just right on Herc’s arm the wince was hard enough to make them both fall into the surf as another wave hit.

Shit.

The two of them rubbed together under the water, Chuck’s chest sliding along Herc’s, and Herc thanked the cold water that he wasn’t getting hard any time soon. The surf deposited them where it was a little shallower, and Chuck pushed him off, but he was smiling. It wasn’t laughing and carefree, more guarded, but he was smiling.

“Truce?” Herc asked, wiping water from his face, too little too late as another wave hit him in the back.

“Guess,” said Chuck, and Herc stood, offering his arm for Chuck to take.

The next hour they spent swimming, never more than probably fifty feet away from each other, and when they got tired they drank soda on the beach and shared a bag of crisps and each other’s silence as they watched the waves and surfers together. Herc tried to pretend he wasn’t looking at Chuck out of the corner of his eye, when Chuck wasn’t looking.

He even thought he caught a couple of glimpses from Chuck, but he supposed it was either nothing, or Chuck staring at the scarring on his arm.

Bondi was well known for it’s volley ball tournaments, and when a crowd started to gather the two of them wandered over. Locals mostly played, and a few minutes into the match one of the boys spotted Chuck.

“OI! Hansen! C’mon, we’re down a man.”

Herc looked down, raising an eyebrow, and Chuck grinned at the guys. “Mates of yours?”

“Yep,” said Chuck, “from school. You mind?”

Herc shook his head. “Kick their ass.”

Chuck ran off, his smile electric and excited, and he laughed as one of the boys ruffled Chuck’s hair. Herc stepped back, proud as his boy delivered a mean serve.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will p r o b a b l y finish this

They left when the sun was setting. Herc got them food from a food cart on the way out, and they walked together eating Mexican that was hot enough to make Herc’s eyes water as they made their way to the car. Chuck was scraped up from the sand, and a little burned, but he seemed pretty happy. Herc was even in a good enough mood to toss him the keys and let him drive back.

Back at the house Chuck made excuses about homework, but when Herc checked the time he knew. He had a video to film.

Maybe a little too excited for the vlog, Herc made the excuse of doing a bit of laundry and clean up to give Chuck some privacy, and he turned on music as he worked, wondering if he was being really obvious.

Around ten he headed upstairs, calling good-night, getting a muted reply from Chuck. Herc had a quick shower to wash off the salt before he got into a pair of flannel pants, pushing on his glasses.

His stomach was tight as he opened his laptop and let it boot up. He didn’t even bother with Skype, because he didn’t feel like talking to Tendo, or ignoring yet another porn link. He’d tried looking at other stuff, and to his guilt, nothing got him off like seeing Chuck.

Sure enough when he logged in there was a new video there, and Herc glanced reflexively at the door before adjusting the volume and clicking play.

 _“Hey there guys,”_ said Chuck, looking so happy and calm at the camera. His hair was mussed up, soft from a fresh shower and it looked like he’d stolen one of Herc’s shirts.

“You little shit,” said Herc, strangely touched. He knew it was probably just because he’d thrown Chuck’s things in the wash, but it was still funny that Chuck had stolen his old Def Leppard shirt.

 _“Well, I’ve had a pretty great day. As you can see, I’m a little burnt. Went down to the beach today, had a good time. I remember Striker1110 asking me to go to the beach and tell you all about it, so I’m happy to. Just for you, Striker.”_ He smiled, and Herc’s heart felt sort of tight, and more than a little pleased. _“I did homework, mostly, but I ended up going to the beach with someone.”_

Herc tried not to be annoyed by being ‘someone’ but he also knew that Chuck didn’t like to talk about family.

 _“The water was great, like if you haven’t swum in Australia, you haven’t lived. Next time I think I’ll rent a surfboard, give that a try.”_ He grinned. _“Bet I’d look hot in a rash guard, yeah? So we went swimming, played about in the water. Had a great time, watched the surfers, and I ran into a bunch of mates. The beach we went to has a lot of volley ball. And if you’re like me, that means plenty of scantily clad people jumping around, so who could resist that? They asked me to play. I got a bit of sand burn, but It was really fun._

 _“So yeah, today was great. I definitely recommend this Mexican food cart that does it’s rounds to all the different beaches here. El Diablito, fucking awesome. And… this is silly, but uh. There’s someone I’ve got a crush on,”_ he sort of blushed at that, looked so adorable Herc’s heart ached, _“and I got to see them in their bathing suit today. Their body… fuck.”_ He shook his head, like he was dreaming too big. _“There was actually a moment I really had to control myself.”_

Herc’s fist balled up, and he wondered which of Chuck’s friends it was. He knew he had no right to be jealous, or possessive like this at all. And the faces of Chuck’s friends were just a blurr. All he knew of them was that they were probably rich, from different corners of the world with diplomats for parents.

Christ, he’d fallen far.

 _“Thanks again, Striker, for suggesting the trip.”_ Herc focused as Chuck pulled out his printed letters. _“Now, first letter is from Kitsune12. He wants me to… describe my sexuality. Oh boy,”_ Chuck rocked on the chair. _“There’s so many words on the internet now for sexuality. Describing it, throwing labels on. And I think labels are very good, for those that want them. They help a person accept and feel good about who they are, so I support them, no matter what they are, and I know people complain about how long they are but you know what? Whatever. Take what you need. As for me, though… I’m not full on gay. I uh, I’ve slept with women. Well, people my age. I think Eva Green is the sexiest woman on the planet. I just uh, I guess I’d say bisexual, but I prefer men. Anyway,”_ he giggled, looking sweet, _“That’s enough about that.”_

He switched papers, and Herc tried to work over how he felt about Chuck sleeping with girls. He wondered what they were like. And he still wanted to know about those tags.

He went through a few more questions, and Herc took note of the answers. Especially a cute one about what the one thing Chuck ‘can’t resist.’ Everyone was expecting something dirty (and so was Herc, kind of eagerly), and he was surprised to learn something else.

 _“Dogs,”_ he said, and blushed again. _“Dogs and puppies, of all kinds. I see a dog on the street, I have to pet it. I have it, I can’t imagine not petting a dog. I’ve never had one, but I just. Dogs. I love dogs.”_

The video ended with the bands of the week (Bad Suns, Neutral Milk Hotel) and a book (A Thousand Splendid Suns), and Chuck promising to maybe try playing guitar next time, and assuring them a great video coming up on Wednesday.

 _“See you soon.”_ He blew a kiss, gave another one of those flirty smiles, and the feed cut out.

Herc puzzled over the vlog as he leaned back. He wanted to watch one of the videos. Seeing Chuck in his trunks, feeling their bodies together even for a second, and a moment later he had one open from last week.

The request was for Chuck to speak as much as possible, for him to really get into the dirty talk. To describe everything, how it felt… and to talk to his daddy. The one he craved.

Herc watched as Chuck started rubbing at his chest. He was smiling, playing with his tits through the tight cotton of his shirt. His nipples were hard, and Chuck bit his lip. _“Do you like it when I touch myself, daddy?”_ he asked, voice breathy, as he dragged his fingernails along his pecs. _“Does it distract you, when I play with my tits like this?”_ He grinned, then, for just a moment, before he squeezed. _“I love playing with them. I wish you could, too, daddy. I’d love for you to touch them.”_

Herc couldn’t wait long, before he stroked himself through the flannel of his pants. Squeezing the head of his cock, resisting the urge to really stroke as long as Chuck did.

Chuck worked his shirt up, exposing his chest, a little red from touching. His nipples were getting dark. Hard little nubs just begging for Herc’s mouth. _“God, daddy. I want you so much. Your big warm hands on me, the feel of your beard rubbing against me. I’d love to see your tongue trace from freckle to freckle on my chest, love to see how much you find your baby boy sexy.”_

“So sexy,” breathed Herc, stroking again, thumb rubbing against the slit of his dick through the fabric, feeling the wetness bleed through. “Baby boy, daddy would make you feel so good.”

Like Chuck could hear him, he started to stroke at his crotch, teasing at his hips, taking his time unbuttoning, wiggling out of them. Stroking himself through his underwear, fondling his balls, taking his slow and teasing time.

 _“You want to see me, daddy?”_ asked Chuck, voice a low purr. _“Want to see your son’s cock?”_

“Fuck-”

Chuck slipped his his dick out, raising his hips slow and seductive. Herc groaned to see it bounce, a drop of precome landing on his abs.

 _“Am I nice and big, daddy? Does your baby boy’s cock turn you on? Do you think it’s pretty? Sexy, how hard your baby boy is for you?”_ Chuck started moving quicker, biting his lip. _“Nnnh, daddy, this feels so good. I wish it was you touching me. Wish it was you who was,_ ” he whimpered, with a slow stroke down, and he spread his legs, _“making me feel so good.”_

Herc was glued on the look of him, moving with deliberate slowness. How Chuck stroked his cock with one hand and used the other to spread his cheeks.

 _“Do I look cute? Do you like the look of my pretty pink hole? I wish you were here, daddy. I wish you were here to press your tongue against it. I wish you could finger me open, because I’ve been a good boy, daddy. And I want your dick inside of me. I want you to fuck me…”_ he licked at his fingers, until they were wet and shining, and he looked so seductive as he flicked his tongue against the pads of his fingers, _“I need you inside me, daddy. To fill your little boy up with your come.”_

Herc was close to blowing then, and he had to stop moving his hand, squeezing the base of his cock as he watched Chuck work a finger inside of himself. How he kept talking about how good it felt, how he wanted his daddy to take care of him.

Herc came before Chuck did, not long before, but he couldn’t get past one thing he said. He stroked himself hard, biting his own wrist as Chuck - with tears of need in his eyes, precome slicking his hand and two fingers inside of himself - licked his lips and shifted to see the camera better.

 _“Daddy, I love you,”_ he said, and Herc shuddered, _“I’m gonna come, daddy.”_

Herc’s toes actually curled as he fucked into his hand, crying out against his arm as he spilled on his fingers, spurt after spurt as Chuck threw his head back with an almost wail of need.

With one last full body shiver, Herc slumped on the bed, so far beyond self-loathing, as he listened to Chuck pant and say good-night, laughing breathily at some self-made joke.

Herc looked up in time to catch a glimpse of Chuck’s baby blues before the feed shut off. Herc knew if he tried he could probably get off two or three more times, but instead he reached out and closed the laptop with a come slick hand.

 _God,_ he thought, looking at the ceiling of his dim bedroom, thinking about Chuck sleeping less than twenty feet away, _help me._

++

“Yes, I fucking booked it,” growled Herc in the empty kitchen, doing his best not to look at the computer. Angela had wanted to Skype call him, to hammer out the plans for Chuck’s upcoming 18th birthday.

She wanted to make it a fucking event, though. Herc had maybe planned on pizza, a trip out to the bar to get his kiddo shitfaced and pat him on the back, welcome him to manhood. Something like that. That was all he’d gotten, from his own old man.

And of course, finding Chuck some kind of decent gift.

Not _this._

“You don’t need to be so negative, Herc.” Angela sounded like she had when she was Angie, and for a second he could imagine her at the table, giving him a little smile while she played with her cup of coffee.

How things change. Herc wondered when he’d got so jaded, and decided it must have been years ago.

He made a frustrated sound. “Look, I do want great things for Chuck, something memorable, but I had to book part of a park, and you’ve got me calling caterer’s and all that. It’s an eighteenth birthday party and I’m on medical leave. How am I supposed to pay for this?” Never mind that even on active duty he wouldn’t manage.

“Cooper and I will be covering the cost, Herc. We’ve been through that. You agreed to that.”

He also felt like a charity case. That Angela’s husband _Cooper_ had to look after. As far as he was concerned, the fucking pommy should mind his fucking boundaries.

“So park, caterer, decorations, alcohol,” he said, “I’ve emailed you all the bookings. They’ll be there. But,” he glanced around, hoping Chuck couldn’t hear from where he was in the back yard, fooling with Herc’s old guitar, “you aren’t planning on getting him something over the top are you?”

“We’re getting him gifts that we feel fits.”

Herc felt rankled. “I live in a two bedroom house on fucking military wages. I can’t _afford-”_

“It’s not keeping up with the Jones’s, Herc. We’re getting him what we’re getting him. Don’t worry about it. I’m glad you got all that done. Now, I need you to put an order in for a cake, I’ve got all the graphics you need for it, to give to them, and-”

“For fucks sake.” She didn’t seem to care how inadequate this made him feel. A crippled up RAAF officer, watching his ex-wife and some arsehole who probably played polo and knew more about his fucking son than he did, spoil the shit out of his child while he stood in the background wondering what the hell to do with himself.

“Herc, listen, I want this to be good for Chuck. We don’t mind that you can’t cover everything, and Chuck doesn’t mind it either. No one minds.”

He frowned. “How does Chuck know?”

“Well not about the party,” she shrugged a bit, before lifting her mug to her lips in a sip. “So far, the e-mails about how he misses Europe have stopped. Seems like he’s settling in well. I think he really likes it there.”

Herc swallowed at that, wondering how he ought to feel. It was a new, unexpected piece of information, that Chuck actually _liked_ living with him.

“He sure doesn’t tell me.”

“You two always butt heads. Last time you got together, before this big move, you had an argument for three hours over different auto makes.”

Herc resisted the urge to mention that it wasn’t his fault the lad was so fucking headstrong.

“Right,” he grunted.

She sighed. “Look, Herc. I know you’re concerned about money. But we’ve got relatives of his flying out, we just wanted to make it somewhere everyone could gather.”

Which reminded him, he had to call his mother and father, as well as Scott.

Well, maybe not Scott. He loved the man, but his decisions were questionable at best.

“Alright, fine,” he grunted.

He could remember him and Angie being so well together. And he was sorry that he’d screwed up bad enough to push her out. It was no one’s fault but his. It just stung, knowing she had so much to give their boy and Herc had next to nothing.

“What are you getting him?” she asked.

“You won’t tell me what you fucking got him.”

She stared at him, an old look that he remembered. It sort of hurt, looking at that honey-blonde hair and the gorgeous green eyes he’d fallen for eighteen years ago. It was his fault she left. He knew that. But it fucking hurt. “I’m not telling you because you’ll kick up a fuss.”

True enough. “I dunno yet.”

She sighed. “Well, you’ve got two weeks left.”

“Uh huh.”

There was a sound at the door and Chuck walked in, guitar in one hand and face red from the heat. He glanced at Herc, then the laptop on the counter, and said a “hey, mom,” as he passed Herc to help himself to a beer from the fridge.

Just knowing he had something of an audience was all that kept him from looking sideways at Chuck when he leaned over to dig into the crisper that had been designated for his Toohey’s.

It occurred to Herc too late to tell him to grab a soda instead, and it wasn’t like his warning would do any damn good.

The second the can made a sound Angela’s eyes went dark. “Are you drinking _beer?”_

Oh no.

“Uh,” Chuck glanced between Herc and Angela a moment, before he set the beer down and fled for upstairs.

Herc sighed, as Angela laid into him.

He wondered how angry she’d be, if he pretended his Internet cut out.

++

Herc sat in his car, staring in disbelief at the park. Angela had arrived a few days ago, and was staying at the Pier One Sydney Harbour Hotel, and Chuck had been there last night to spend time with her.

He tried to pretend like not having the boy around last night hadn’t left him lonely.

Avoiding the park and set up, considering the running around he’d done, he hadn’t shown up until now, since the party was in full swing.

Which, of course, it really was. There were probably fifty people there, around the small outdoor venue, and there were balloons. Teenage boys playing football with Chuck in the field, dozens of other relatives milling about an snacking from the giant table of food.

And, god, the presents that were there. He practically wilted.

A little whimper came from his lap, and Herc looked down. Chuck’s present, which he’d only picked up this afternoon, sat on his lap and wiggled its tiny tail, its wrinkled face looking hopefully up at him.

“You are an ugly little spud,” said Herc, reaching down to scratch the dog, but it wiggled with pleasure anyway, its rolls jiggling a bit. It made him smile some, and he pet the dog, watching it yawn and fall asleep again on his lap. Which was good, considering.

He lifted the dog and placed it in its special bed, which was currently in a little box with holes carved in it. He felt bad putting the lid on, but the puppy didn’t even twitch at it or make a sound.

With a nervous sigh, Herc picked up the box and got out of the car.

The music was loud, but at least Chuck had taste. The box ruffled a bit, and herc wished he could slip his hand inside, comfort the puppy.

When he got alongside the present table, he was at least relieved it was in the shade.

Angela didn’t waste much time in finding him.

“You’re late, Herc.”

He sighed, turning to look at her. “I got waylaid.”

She didn’t spare much of a glance at the wrapped box, and Herc sweat a moment that she might see the air holes.

“M’here now anyway. How long until presents, all that?” he refused to glance at his nervously, and Angela didn’t look either.

“Find him something nice?”

“Think so…”

“Well, we were waiting for you.”

That was a relief, he supposed, as someone went to call the boys and Herc continued to nervously hover, shushing when he heard the box rustle a bit. God, he hoped Chuck hurried the hell up.

It was sort of a relief, though, that Chuck’s friends were all rich like he was. None of them seemed intimidated by the sheer amount of gifts that Chuck started working through, and Herc had to wonder where he was going to fit some of this stuff.

Sitting near the back, he watched Chuck open new video recording equipment (that made Herc go a bit pink, because he was remembering Chuck hinting at a gopro video), and a new state of the art laptop from Angela and her husband.

Herc hated himself, for thinking about how much clearer Chuck’s videos might get.

Chuck loved the surfboard from his grand parents, thanked others for gift cards and other expensive things. Herc was last at the table, wincing a bit over the next gifts from Angela and her husband (motorcycle lessons, a watch that cost probably as much as a down payment on a house, and Herc could just thank the heavens it wasn’t a goddamn car).

The boy was pretty well done, drooling over the video equipment with a friend, when Herc shuffled forward sort of nervously with the box in his hands. A few eyes were on him, and it took Chuck a moment to look up.

“Happy birthday, kiddo.”

Chuck blinked a moment, then smiled, setting the box with the camera aside. “Thanks.”

He took the box, frowning when it shuffled, and he stood up.

Herc’s heart was pounding, as Chuck popped the lid off and stared inside at the small, wrinkled face that poked out of it, and let out a yip.

A moment of silence passed, then he saw a smile break out on Chuck’s face that nearly made the sky look dim, as he reached inside and scooped out the tiny bulldog.

“A puppy! Oh my god! Oh god, dad!” He cradled the dog, who went crazy, licking Chuck’s face and yipping with excitement as several cameras flashed to capture the moment and Herc breathed a sigh of relief as Chuck dropped to the ground to set the pup down so it could run in the grass.

Feeling Angela burning holes in his back, Herc went around the table to kneel by Chuck. The dog hadn’t forgotten him, and pounced on Herc’s shoes, it’s entire butt wiggling with the force of its happiness.

“Like him?”

Chuck nodded, picking the pup up again, turning to fix Herc with an almost reverent stare. “I’ve never been allowed a dog. I’ve always wanted one.”

He made a little sound, then, as he sat back in the grass, and the dog curled up to sleep in his lap, still licking at Chuck’s hand.

“Happy Birthday, sprog.”

Chuck didn’t even get mad at the name, as Herc got up to leave the two of them to their moment, the other teenagers crowding past to get a look at it. Even tough soon-to-be frat boys seemed to be wooed by small, furry creatures.

Walking back, he turned to see Angela, and when she crooked a finger he went, ignoring the smiles as everyone watched Chuck with his new bulldog.

“Hercules,” she said, terse.

“What?”

“What is that?”

“A dog.”

“I _know_ but Chuck is probably going to be _leaving_ soon, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

That took Herc back a bit, suddenly confused. “Leaving?”

“Right. I found a way to get Chuck to come with me to China, and he’s considering it.”

Herc felt like he might break at that. He had nothing to say, as he felt everything that had built up over the last two months start to break a little.

“What’s he said?”

“Doesn’t know yet. And now you’ve given him _this,_ and he’ll have much more trouble making a clear headed decision!”

Herc swallowed. “He was coming to uni here, why not just let him stay?”

“What?” she laughed now. “No. Chuck’s got grades for _Oxford_ , or Harvard, or any Ivy League. What makes you think he wants to go to school here?”

 _A porn video._ “Nothing really.” He felt a sick pool of guilt in his stomach over it. “Just a feeling.”

Angela sighed, because now people were coming over to talk, and they had to stop. “We’ll talk about the dog.”


	4. Chapter 4

In the end, Max (the ball of wrinkles) was there to stay, and Chuck announced to Angela, Cooper and Herc at the ‘farewell’ dinner of his plans to finish his last year in Australia, saying nothing of university options. Over a meal Herc didn’t want to consider the price of (and more than a little thankful they were paying) Chuck evaded every mention of acceptance letters. There were a few upstairs, hidden away, but Herc hadn’t looked.

Herc was more than a little pleased how long this meant Chuck would be around for. He couldn’t stop smirking into his panna cotta.

With the lump of wrinkles a constant around the house, Herc found himself relaxing. Showing affection to the dog around Chuck. Feeling guilty that the ‘I love you’s’ were ones he wanted to give his boy, but he wondered about the same for Chuck, considering he heard more than a few ‘I love you’s’ from Chuck to the dog shortly after.

It hurt and felt good at the same time.

Especially during the next vlog, when Chuck absolutely gushed over Max, kissing his fat little face and cuddling him and telling his viewers what a great dad he had, buying him a dog like he’d always wanted, and how much he _loved_ his puppy.

Herc was enough of a man to admit he got misty eyed.

He just wished that he could get some semblance of control, especially over those videos. He wanted to stop watching, but at the same time he couldn’t remember being so _invested_ over sex, the amazing orgasms he had and how much he was just starting to fall for his kid should have been a deterrent but it made Herc feel good.

It was violent, sometimes, how much he hated himself.

Another bad part was how he’d become one of Chuck’s favourites. He’d begun suggesting older bands that Chuck might not have heard before, asking him all kinds of questions during the vlog to get to know him better. Even made a small donation for a request to see Chuck do an extra vlog a few weeks later, which Chuck accepted, saying he was tired from finals anyway.

_“A special vlog just for Striker… I’ve even opened up live questions.”_

Herc had asked more than his fair share. In fact, it was a closer conversation than he’d ever had, gently quizzing the boy, and watching how _soft_ Chuck seemed to get when a new question from Striker1110 popped up, how he smiled and played with the dog tags, tantalizingly too far from the camera, watched him bite his lip.

Christ, Herc had it bad.

The next week, though, he couldn’t help asking for a sex request. He knew he shouldn’t. He knew it was the worst thing he could possibly do, as a father, as a guardian. But he did it anyway, and felt his credit card burning at him the rest of the day, felt guilt in his stomach. Herc had worked out hard for that one, until he’d damn near wrecked his arm again and his hip was protesting violently.

**Striker1110:** _Do something somewhere new. Not your bedroom, somewhere unusual. Naughty, even._

Herc was on pins and needles, wondering if he’d be accepted.

The next Wednesday he even went somewhere out of house, to a local internet cafe. He got caught up with his brother over Skype, had a few coffees, imagined Chuck at home deciding if he wanted to use the go-pro. He even spoke to Tendo a bit, happy to hear he was coming to Australia and might want to go to the bar for a night.

Like a good dad, he’d asked if Chuck wanted to go out. Chuck had said something about an unfinished essay, staying in.

Would he really though?

At the right time, Herc couldn’t help logging in just to _see_ if the video had been done. It was, as Chuck said, his thirtieth video and it would be something special. The video already had a few hundred hits and was probably rising.

Seated at the back of the cafe, Herc fret for a moment, but no one could see.

Threat of being kicked out (or arrested) on his mind, Herc made sure his headphones were in and pressed play.

 _“Heyy,”_ said Chuck, fully dressed in nice clothes, looking happy. _“I’ve been promising gopro videos, and while I know this isn’t exactly an exotic location, my pal Striker has asked for me to do something somewhere naughty. This is the sort of day though for multiples, so I’m going to take another request from SilentJay420, who asked for a strip tease.”_

Herc’s cock throbbed, because he looked past Chuck to focus on familiar grey-blue walls. _Herc’s bedroom walls._

“Oh shit,” he murmured, because Chuck stood up, setting the gopro on the dresser.

_“So this is the room of someone special. Had to travel a bit to get here, but they’re out of the house.”_

“Liar.” Sort of.

_“And I’m going to do a little show in daddy’s bed.”_

Herc shut the video off at once, breathing hard. He packed up his laptop, had to get out of there. But was it live? Was Chuck streaming? Because if so, Herc couldn’t go home. He had to wait.

He couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that he had called Herc’s bed, _daddy’s bed._

He needed the bar.

A few beers later and he headed home. Chuck was playing some zombie game on his PS4, looking invested, and Herc stared at the dog tags on his chest a moment before saying hello.

Chuck glanced up, looked a little embarrassed by something, but said hello too before going back to his game.

It was going to be a severe effort to wait until Chuck was asleep. Herc hated himself for that, as he made dinner for the two of them. Nothing classy, just some bangers and mash with his mom’s recipe for a roasted garlic mashed potatoes. His favourite comfort food.

“Special occasion?” asked Chuck, who made a too-erotic noise as he took a bite.

“Nah.”

That was about the extent of their conversation, and Herc tried to pretend he wasn’t staring at the ball chain ofthe dog tags that Chuck was wearing around his neck.

When Chuck was finally, _finally_ , in bed, Herc went to his room and booted his computer. As it loaded, and on the off chance Chuck had actually done something _in his bed,_ Herc lifted a pillow and took a deep breath. Masculine scent, not his, mixed with Chuck’s shampoo.

Herc rut against the bed a moment, before turning on the video.

_“So it’s been hard, finding a good song… but I figured I wanted to introduce a new band at the same time. I know, kinda lame, but… this song is Summer Dress by a band called July Talk, and they’re pretty great.”_

The music in his ears was traditional rock, the man’s voice was rough and deep, gravel and cigarettes. Chuck stood in front of his bed, starting to move his hips, a little at odds with the music, but slow and sexy all the same as he started to strip.

Each motion had Herc mesmerised, as Chuck stripped his shirt, swayed his hips and dropped his pants until he stepped out of the pooled fabric. His underwear was a pair of tight, sexy briefs, and he walked, turned, bent over, showed himself off. His hips moved in slow, grinding thrusts against the bed as he looked over his shoulder with needy eyes.

Herc had planned to resist jerking off until the main event, but when the music switched to a new song by the same band, and Chuck started to pull those briefs off of his hard cock, it was it. It was over, and he came as Chuck fell onto the bed, stroking himself, his boy pushing his pretty cock through the hole of his fist.

As the music ended, Chuck pushed himself back on the bed, sprawling out. Herc looked up, figuring Chuck had found some way to attach the gopro to the ceiling fan, dangling it or something at just the right height to get everything on the bed.

 _“I told you once that this is a secret,”_ said Chuck, sucking on one tag, before drawing it out slowly, curling his fingers in the chain. _“They’re_ daddy’s. _The daddy I’ve wanted for so long, who sleeps in this bed every night. I can smell him..._ ” Chuck tilted his head and breathed deep in his pillow. _“Whenever I can, I sneak in here…”_

Alarmed, Herc shut the video.

++

He’d unsubscribed after that and deleted his account, the depression, the worry, finally getting to him. He still had no proof if Chuck was lying or not, but he couldn’t help it. It was wrong, so wrong, to do this, and if Chuck liked him back the temptation was too high.

He could go into his baby boy’s room next wednesday, and prove to everyone watching that someone loved Chuck, wanted Chuck, that Chuck was _his boy._

“I’m so fucked up,” muttered Herc, hands in warm soapy water as he tried to watch dishes.

“What’s that?” asked Chuck, walking in the room, his dog tags once again under his shirt.

God, Herc needed to see. And needed to know _why._ Why would Chuck want him when he barely even knew him?

“Nothin,” said Herc, gruffly, as he tried to finish. Ignoring the way Chuck picked up a dishcloth to help, Max under their feet and making little wuffs as he tried to beg for food.

Herc was wiping his hands off, the drain making sucking noises as the plug was pulled, when someone rang the bell. Max set off in a scrabble of unsteady feet for the door, wuffing and yipping as he tried to be ferocious.

“I’ll get it,” said Herc, figuring another Jehovah’s Witness was about, and scooping Max up in the process. He was thinking of ways to tell them to shove off when he opened the door, and felt what little colour he had drain from his face.

He’d forgotten that Tendo Choi knew where he lived.

“Striker!” said Tendo _far too loud,_ and he opened his arms for a hug.

Like he was in a dream, Herc gave him a brief hug and a quick pat back that squished the dog between them, half sure he was going to die there and then.

“How you doing?” asked Tendo, letting himself inside, and Herc wanted to say something - _Chuck was just inside, he had to get Tendo out of here -_ when Chuck appeared in the hall to see what was up. Max was wiggling for Tendo’s face, but when Chuck appeared he wanted down. Herc was happy enough to oblige. The dog was in love with Chuck.

And Tendo actually stuttered over his words a moment, before he said. “Heya, kiddo. Herc’s mentioned you. You Chuck?”

Chuck nodded. “Yeah. Not sure who you are…”

“Tendo, Tendo Choi,” he said, reaching out to shake like he was a game show host, and Herc felt like he might faint for a second. “Work with your old man sometimes. Thought I’d drop by, say hi.”

They shook hands, and before Chuck could ask more questions, Herc grabbed Tendo’s arm.

“Let’s grab beers. Chuck? Tidy up the living room will you, so we have space to sit.”

Obedient to a fault, even though he was argumentative at the best of times, Chuck nodded and went to his task.

Alone in the kitchen, Tendo whirled on Herc.

“That - _that’s Charlie Eureka, why didn’t you fucking tell me otherwise I never…”_

“SHHH!” Herc glanced at the doorway, nervous, before advancing, backing Tendo right into the refrigerator. “I know! I didn’t want to tell you. I haven’t talked to him about it, I don’t fucking know how.”

“Christ, I subscribed…”

Herc felt his blood boil a bit. _“Well un-fucking subscribe!”_

Tendo was not allowed to perv on his boy. Come to think, no one was. He had to fix this problem, and soon.

“Yeah no shit,” said Tendo, glancing at the hall. “Christ. Your kid is a porn star.”

“Shut it!” Herc snarled, keeping his tone to a menacing little growl. “Just shut it. We don’t talk about it. We have a few beers, and maybe you have to leave sooner than you meant. Got it?”

“Yeah,” said Tendo weakly. “Yeah… and was that, was that your room-”

“Was what my room?” His voice was dark.

“Nothin’ nevermind. Beers.”

“Beers.”

Herc pushed Tendo from the door, reaching in and grabbing a sixer of beer, the bottles perspiring in the hot kitchen almost at once. He grabbed the bottle opener, gave another warning look at Tendo, and then walked to the living room.

“Here, kid, have one too,” said Herc.

Chuck took a beer, popping the top, looking at Tendo with interest. “Got any bad stories about my dad?”

It was an effort not to groan, when Tendo said, “Striker? Yeah, loads.”

“Classified, Ten…” said Herc in a warning tone.

“Not all,” said Tendo, waving his hand.

“Striker?” asked Chuck, and Herc felt his heart sink just a little.

“Yeah, your dad’s nickname. Killer aim…”

Herc sank into his chair, and Chuck looked at him funny a moment, before looking back at Tendo and leaning in for some kind of juicy, interesting story.

It was going to be a long afternoon.

++

Tendo had left at around ten at night after Chuck insisted he stay for dinner. Herc had ended up buying pizza, feeling sort of ill, but he’d let Chuck pay using his card and managed to eat a few slices, if only to keep himself from getting overly drunk.

Instead of participating though, he mostly watched as Chuck showed Tendo his scores on the X-Box and then the two of them squared off on some army game, turning down all offers for him to join in.

When Tendo finally left, Herc wanted to disappear into his room and never come out, but Chuck was tipsy and energetic now.

“Play,” said Chuck, shoving the controller at him. “I’ll make you a profile.”

“Chuck…”

“Daaaaaad,” Chuck sounded like a petulant, whining child. “Play.”

With a sigh, and deciding Tendo wasn’t allowed to pour his son a drink ever again, he shrugged. “Alright. Fine. Make me a… profile.”

“Yessss.”

Chuck worked away, and Herc’s eyes drifted. Tendo had subscribed to his kid, beat off to his kid. It would take everything not to kill Tendo next time he saw him, take everything  not to just switch off the internet next time Chuck was making a video.

He looked up after picking up his beer, and as he was taking a long pull he realized what Chuck had named him, and it was like swallowing a stone, to force that gulp of liquid down.

Striker1110.

His mouth went dry, and he felt like he was floating. Or maybe falling. To hell.

“I figured,” said Chuck, suddenly sounding far more sober, “that y’know, since you’re _Striker_ an’ all, and your birthday - saw it on your driver's license when you let me pay for pizza - that this would be a good name. Don’t you think?”

Herc could feel himself turning red. As a tomato.”I… guess…” he said, his voice very quiet.

“You know. I met a man like that online. He was very sweet.”

He felt his blood run cold. He could not look at Chuck.

“Oh, yeah?” he asked, his voice feeling strained. Fake.”Did you now?”

“Yeah.” Chuck’s hand was wandering, stroking at Herc’s knee. “Always asking about me. Personal stuff, like he was trying to please me, y’know?”

Herc swallowed. “Sounds like he really cares about you then.” He shifted his leg, but Chuck’s hand followed, squeezing, stroking his thigh.

“Yeah. He’s important to me. I love him.”

Seriousness was there in Chuck’s voice now, Herc couldn’t ignore that. And he had to. If anything was going to be kept remotely normal of this mess of a relationship he had with Chuck.

“Chuck…” he looked down at the hand on his leg, swallowing around guilt and shame.

And Chuck just squeezed again, shifting to get into Herc’s lap. Herc pushed back, but it was half-hearted, and he met Chuck’s grey eyes a moment later feeling like he was falling so far.

“Knowing he cares about me as much as I care about him means a lot. More than you know.”

He knows. And he can’t. “I’m sure he does. But he’s also regretting it. Regretting a lot of things.”

“Regretting waiting, maybe.” Chuck’s looked pleading at that, like he knew where this was going. The opposite of what either of them _really_ wanted. But it was what was right.

“Chuck, he -” Herc winced, shaking his head. He rolled Chuck off of him, exerting strength this time. Wondering when Chuck got strong when the boy resisted, but Herc had him against the couch in a moment, and he started backing away. “I can’t. It’s not right.”

They stared at each other a long moment, and Chuck looked shocked, like he hadn’t been expecting the outcome.

And Herc knew it was his mess. That everything around them was _his_ mess. That in the morning when he woke up feeling full of guilt and hate for himself, as he threw out the cans and the pizza boxes, knowing his boy was asleep upstairs.

Maybe hating Herc.

“Dad…”

Herc shook his head, picked up the remote. Switched off the TV, and he flipped off the lightswitch. The room plunged into darkness.

“No, Chuck.”

And not knowing if he was doing the right thing or the wrong, he went upstairs and closed the door to his room. Strained to hear sounds in the rest of the house, but heard nothing but the whirr of the air conditioning unit.

Tonight the light and sound kept him up though. Or maybe it was the guilt, Herc knew he’d gone to sleep before with his share of it, but now it was eating him inside.

He tossed and turned, reaching the edge of sleep around three AM, clutching at a pillow, wondering how he’d screwed himself up and his son up so badly, when the bed shifted.

Herc whirled, coming awake, but Chuck was under the sheet with him.

And those were his lips, pressing against Herc’s so softly.

“At first I was mad,” said Chuck, and Herc let his boy climb on top of him. There was something surreal about seeing him in the dim light like this. Seeing the almost translucent glow of Chuck’s skin in moonlight. “Mad because how could you do those things and say no? And then I was upset. Just upset. And then I knew you loved me and that’s why you said no. Because you love me. Like that.”

He leaned in again and Herc knew he ought to turn his head and kick Chuck out, but this close, smelling his scent, knowing that if it weren’t for his boxers he’d feel the slide of Chuck’s cock against his own, he couldn’t say no.

“You love me.”

“Christ.”

“Say it.”

“Chuck-”

“Say it.”

Herc swallowed. “I love you.”

The response was aggressive, hot. Demanding. Chuck kissed with heat, with anger. And Herc opened his mouth to it, pushing his tongue up to taste his boy’s mouth.

He rolled, pinning Chuck, wondering why it was easy now. Maybe because they didn’t really talk. Didn’t get emotional. Not really. Physical emotions were better than speaking.

He opened his eyes, knowing he’d regret it in the morning. Chuck’s hair was ruffled, messy, his eyes half lidded and needy. He pulled Herc in all over again, and that’s when Herc felt his boy’s demanding erection against his own.

“Do it,” hissed Chuck, as his clever hands pulled down Herc’s boxers.

“Do what?”

“You know.”

Herc thrust as Chuck rolled his hips up, legs climbing higher around Herc’s torso. The head of his dick pushed down the cleft of Chuck’s ass, and he shuddered knowing now what the boy wanted.

 _You sure?_ he asked silently, as his hand reached out for lube. He ought to grab a condom, he knew, but he had none.

“Daddy please,” said Chuck now, and the words chirped through Herc’s body, setting him alive with something almost like electricity as he pushed two lubed fingers inside of Chuck.

His boy opened around them, like Herc expected.

“Good?”

Chuck just cried out, as Herc curled his fingers and found his prostate.

Tilting his head, shifting down, Herc licked at his chest, stroking one of Chuck’s nipples with his tongue, making the boy quiver and twitch now. He felt so good, his walls clenching around Herc’s fingers.

Couldn’t wait to be inside of him.

“I’m your first, right?”

He knew.

“Yes,” gasped Chuck, “first man.”

“Good.” _Only man._

He pushed an orgasm out of Chuck, shallowly fucking him with his fingers at first until he had three inside, was twisting his fingers and thrusting hard until Chuck had a tear fall down from the corner of his dad, begging _daddy_ and _yes._

When he finally pulled them out he leaned down, licking up each string of cum that Chuck had shot from his pretty cock, making sure to suck on him a moment too just to make Chuck quake and wail, twisting to get away from the over sensitivity.

“You’ve got to cum for me again,” said Herc, licking away the taste before leaning down to kiss Chuck as he lubed himself. “We’ve got all night.”

He backed up, pulling Chuck a little, holding his legs. Lovingly stroking his thighs, the softness of his balls and perineum, dipping another finger into his wet hole a moment.

“Look at what you made, daddy,” said Chuck, his finger stroking at Herc’s.

Instead of flinching, Herc shuddered with need and pushed inside. Watching the head of his cock disappear in that tight ring of muscle before he leaned forward, thrusting once, watching as Chuck cried out again.

“So tight,” he murmured, “so perfect for his daddy.”

He kept it slow, at first. Watching Chuck’s facial expressions. Feeling his thighs tighten against his sides when he pushed in completely.

His boy was even more beautiful than Herc could have imagined.

“Faster, daddy,” Chuck begged, when his cock was starting to get hard again against Herc’s stomach. “Please.”

Herc gripped his hips, pressing his face into Chuck’s neck as he thrust faster and faster, listening to those broken moans. Reaching between them when he felt Chuck start to get wet against him, leaking precum.

He came when Chuck said, _“I love you daddy,”_ in his ear. He thrust again, harder, as he shot inside his own son, kissing desperately at his lips.

Sliding his cock out and moving down to suck Chuck the rest of the way, as he pushed his fingers up and inside of his own boy.

++

Somehow, life seemed to go on. There was a little morning after guilt, but Chuck seemed determined to be a pest whenever Herc started getting guilty, and effectively distracting him from it.

Chuck even deleted his vlog, with a farewell message the following Wednesday that was cheerfully announcing how the daddy he was in love with was in love with him too, and he didn’t want to keep on going with his blog.

The next day, it was closed. Herc had made sure.

“Don’t trust me?” asked Chuck, when Herc looked.

“Making sure is all,” he replied, deciding if they were going to have this fucked up thing, he’d have it his way.

“I know you’re mad about it all, but you can’t really say no when this means you don’t have to pay for my University.” He paused. “And you did all this just to get to know me.”

The university at least had been another happy surprise. Chuck announcing he was staying in Sydney for all of his final academics. His mother was livid, claiming he was wasting his talents. Herc was over the moon.

“I’d rather slave for a year straight for your Uni if it means no pervy old men watching you wank.”

“Too late. It’s over anyway.”

“Damn straight,” Herc growled, pulling Chuck in for a kiss. Chuck returned it eagerly, sliding into his daddy’s lap at the breakfast table. “You’re mine now.”

“Mm,” Chuck looked pleased at that. “Yours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All done now. Hope you liked it! I might write more in this verse at some point...


End file.
